


And I really want this to last so bad

by Lady_Firiel



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, I'm fluff trash sorry, M/M, They're like twenty, there's also a ton of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Firiel/pseuds/Lady_Firiel
Summary: «I thought that was what you wanted?»The blond smiled.«It is»«I don’t see the problem, then» he said.The smile got bigger.«The problem, right now» he breathed, leaning closer «Is that you’re not kissing me»«I think we can solve this problem together then» he breathed back.[...]«Kunimitsu» Atobe breathed after a while.«What is it?»«You’re still not kissing me»





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone~!  
> I'm back with another fluffy work because, I swear, I am physically incapable of _not_ putting fluff in everything I write. Whatever, it can't be helped~.  
>  This ~~useless~~ work was actually a request from my dear friend [Oducchan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Oducchan/pseuds/Oducchan), who keeps reading all my works because she's a beautiful person.  
>  On with the story now, see you at the end~!

**_And I really want this to last so bad_ **

 

Tezuka and Atobe were sitting on a couch in their shared apartment.   
The dark haired boy was sitting with his back pressed on the backrest of said couch, stiff as only he could be while trying to relax, intent on reading a book. His blond companion was sitting with is back on the armrest of the very same couch, feet on the cushions, and was currently very busy staring at his boyfriend.   
He was very proud of said boyfriend: Atobe was a handsome man himself so it was only fair that his companion was just as handsome; and Tezuka certainly was.   
The blond guy looked at the other’s dark hair, at the stray locks partly covering his dark eyes, hidden behind thin, elegant glasses. Atobe loved the hair, and, _oh_ , he loved the eyes: he loved them when they were focused on something –just like now-, when they were lit up by a sparkle of joy when something pleasant happened; he loved them when they were shining with unshed tears because he had a nightmare in which he could never play tennis again and he was _scared_ ; and he loved them when they became dark, darker than usual with lust as they moved together, in such a perfect synch they could rival what used to be the Golden Pair of Seishun Gakuen.   
Yes, Atobe was completely in love with Tezuka’s eyes and every emotion they expressed.   
Because if there was something he had learned through years of dating the other it was that while his face was often expressionless his eyes spoke a lot, sometimes softly, sometimes almost yelling as his feelings showed with a clarity impossible to miss.   
Maybe Tezuka had changed through the years and had become more open with his feelings, letting them show at least through his eyes; or maybe Atobe had just become very good at reading something that had always been there.   
Those dark eyes weren’t the only thing he loved, _obviously_ ; he loved all of the dark haired guy, from his quiet personality, silent and serious, to the way he always, shyly managed to show he loved him with small gestures, like when he let him have the last piece of food from a shared plate, or when he covered him with a blanked when he fell asleep on the couch –the very same couch he was currently sitting on- and gave him an affectionate kiss on the forehead when he thought the other wouldn’t notice (he always noticed, though. _Always._ ).   
Atobe knew they weren’t perfect in an absolute way, but they worked, and worked _well_ , and it was more than enough. They were old enough to tell the world to go screw itself because they were in love.   
Atobe was ready to say the very same thing (“screw you”, that is) to his parents when he told them he was dating Tezuka (he didn’t mention he’d been doing so for actual _years_ , though, just to be safer), but they didn’t seem bothered by it. Of course they weren’t exactly excited about it either, but he was young, they probably thought, maybe things would change.   
Maybe they would, no one could know, but Atobe surely hoped that even if they did it would be for the better.   
They weren’t expecting to be together forever, to get married one day and grow old side by side living happily ever after like in some crappy fairy tale; they were fairly conscious that their relationship could just end whenever, that maybe one day they would be fed up with one of the other’s quirks and decide to split up for good.   
That’s why they never promised each other “forever”s and “always”s but “now”s and “tomorrow”s.   
They had chosen to love each other in the moment, in every single instant of their lives rather than in indefinite times yet to live. They had chosen to _live_ their love with every second.   
Tezuka’s small cough brought him back to reality, and Atobe blinked, realizing he had been staring at his boyfriend all the time.   
«Why are you staring at me?» Tezuka asked, without averting his eyes from the book.   
«Because you are not» he answered. Thant answer was vague enough to draw the dark haired boy’s attention from his book and to his face.   
«What?»   
«I’m staring at you because you are not staring at me»   
Tezuka arched an eyebrow.   
«You do realize this makes no sense, right?»   
Atobe made a small laugh.   
«It does»   
«It really does not»   
« _It does_ » he insisted, getting an exasperate sigh from his boyfriend.   
«And just how, pray tell, does that make sense?»   
Atobe grinned.   
«You’re not paying attention to me. I figured that if I stared at you long enough you’d be bothered enough to ask why I was doing it» he said, his blue eyes lit up by a sense of accomplishment.   
«You just wanted to get my attention then» Tezuka concluded.   
«Exactly»   
«Couldn’t you just say so?»   
Atobe smiled, rising from his sitting position and crawling his way towards the other.   
«Where would the fun be in that?» he laughed, softly, breathing on the other’s cheek.   
Tezuka felt a shiver go down his spine but said nothing.   
Atobe started placing feather-like kisses along the dark haired guy’s  pale neck, from its base, where it was jointed with his shoulder, up to the jaw, and then moved to his cheek, his cheekbone, and then his temple and up to his hair.   
Tezuka hold his breath every time while shivers kept running down his spine. He moved from the other to put his book on the coffee table and then turned to stare into his boyfriend blue eyes: _god_ , he _loved_ those eyes.   
He loved them when they glowed with mirth, when sparkles of joy lit them; he loved them when they shined with unshed tears, like that one time they had a bad argument over something and Atobe had been so scared they’d lose each other he almost cried; he had loved them that time too, but he really didn’t want to see them like that again. They reminded him of the sky at midday, when the sun shone its brightest, every time he laughed; and they reminded him of the sea, of the deep blue ocean, every time they were clouded with lust when they were slowly making love, holding onto each other like they were the last rocks before the dangerous, scary open sea, like they were the last thing keeping each other safe.   
Yes, Tezuka loved Atobe’s eyes; just like he loved everything else, from his charismatic and confident personality to the way he showered him with love, sometimes loudly, for the whole world to witness, sometimes softly, just for the two of them to know and share.   
«You’re the one staring, now» Atobe’s soft voice brought him back, and he realized the other was right.   
He scoffed.   
«I thought that was what you wanted?»   
The blond smiled.   
«It is»   
«I don’t see the problem, then» he said.   
The smile got bigger.   
«The problem, right now» he breathed, leaning closer «Is that you’re not kissing me»   
«I think we can solve this problem together then» he breathed back.   
They were so close their noses were touching the other’s cheek and their lips brushed against each other with every word, their eyes still open but unable to properly focus on the other’s face.   
They stayed in that position for a few moments, enjoying the silence and the warm but moist breath of their lover on their cool skin.   
«Kunimitsu» Atobe breathed after a while.   
«What is it?»   
«You’re still not kissing me»   
Eyes finally fluttering closed, they finally closed that small distance still separating them and kissed.   
They started softly, lips closed, and then opened them and let their tongues entwine, their bodies pressing against each other as close as possible, Atobe laying on his back, hands tangled in Tezuka’s hair, pulling him harder against his mouth while said boy, laying all his body on top of his lover, let his own hands caress his shoulders and chest. The kisses turned hot, steamy, and the clothes started to feel like a prison, like an infinite distance keeping them too much apart.   
So they undressed, ready to make love on the couch just like they had done many times before (and would likely do many times in the future).   
But all they did, every little thing, from the close-mouthed kisses to the deep thrusts against one another, they did it _slowly_.   
Not because they knew they had time, because they did not know how much they still had; but because they wanted what time they still had to last as long as possible.   
Atobe had always had a thing for making things last, that was the way he liked to play, both in tennis and in life, and though there were times Tezuka would strongly disagree with that view (like when they had to go out and the blond would take _forever_ to get ready because he just needed to be perfect, no matter how many times he told him he was already pretty enough), there were others he felt like he couldn’t agree more.   
Like when they held hands, or whispered sweet nothings into each other’s ear when they felt cuddly.   
Like when they laughed together at something.   
Like when they played another tennis match, just one more, to see if they were still good enough.   
Like when they kissed, just like they were doing now.   
Like when they made love, almost agonizingly slow, so slow they would sometimes feel breathless because the pleasure was too much, and they needed release but no, they would keep going slow because release would mean it _ended_ and they desperately wanted it to _last_.   
Yes, slow was good for them.   
There was no need to rush, they weren’t going anywhere the other couldn’t reach.

**Author's Note:**

> How was it? Hope it was nice enough~.  
> The title of this work is part of the lyrics from Rachel Platten's song " _Speechless_ ", which was a huge inspiration so if you liked this work you could check the song, but you could also not, live your life as you wish~ XD  
> As always if you want to leave kudos of comments I'd be happy, but it's up to you~!  
> That's all for now, everyone, thanks for reading, see you next time~!


End file.
